


Dawn is breaking

by CatherineParker



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Blood and Torture, Character Death, Dark, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, I'm Sorry, Mord'Sith content, Physical Abuse, Psychological Torture, mord'sith - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-10 22:23:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatherineParker/pseuds/CatherineParker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kahlan needs to cope with a new and different life. After an apocalyptic battle in a world in which Darken Rahl has won and she has lost almost everything. Except for Denna. </p><p>Kahlan can't quite decide if this is a good thing, or the worst. After all, Denna is there to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is made of this.

Dawn is breaking, but where she is no ray of sunshine will ever fall upon her face.  
  
The door opens with a creak and from the distance blood-curling screams of agony and sheer despair enter the sparely lit room like uninvited guests. Her chin rests against her breastbone, each breath she takes is shallow and rather painful.  
  
Blue eyes are tired, eyelids are heavy and swollen. If she just keeps them closed she might stay in her perfect little bubble a little while longer, where she‘s not stripped down to her underthings and hanging on a hook like a pig in the slaughterhouse.   
  
In a wondrous dream where no bruises adorn her pale skin like a morbid, inscrutable painting.   
  
In a world where she‘s not the very last of her kind. As long the Mother Confessor‘s pure heart beats... Her heart isn‘t pure anymore.  
  
 _This isn‘t real._  
  
The traitorous voice in her mind pulls her back ever so often, especially when she drifts further away to rather carefree days of her life. These memories from past ages seem millennia ago, speaking to her in the languages of ancient times. It is hard to tell how much time has truly passed, but Kahlan can feel herself slowly fading away.  
  
Every future has a past, but Kahlan has come to a point where she believes that she has no future.  
  
 _Come back to me._  
  
The door closes again and the dungeon falls eerily silent once more.  
  
But there is one thing she has learned during her involuntary stay as a much honored guest, is that appearances are deceptive and here even more than anywhere else.   
  
The prickling of her skin tells her all she needs to know - but is not yet ready to see.  
  
 _Someone is there._  
  
The only thing Kahlan can hear is the raspy sound of her own breathing. Muscles are tense and her skin aches under the constant strain. When blue eyes flutter open eventually, her gaze catches a faint movement, she looks in direction of the door.  
  
 _You have nowhere to hide._  
  
Her vision is blurry, much like the day Aydindril stood in flames and was burned to the ground.   
  
Still Kahlan can see women and children running through an ocean of embers that once was a place she had called home. With the time passing faces have blurred together, but the cries and wails of agony, the smell of burned flesh are still clear, echoing in her mind as if it happened only yesterday.   
  
It was the day Richard died. Cara. And Zedd.  
  
 _Nowhere to go._  
  
Choking on a sob that rises in her sore throat, Kahlan blinks against the tears that are welling up and focuses her attention on something that spreads underneath the door into the room, then really, she can‘t think about that day now - or ever again.   
  
The stream slowly spreads further, tainting gray stone-tiles crimson. For a moment Kahlan is completely mesmerized and watches the dark puddle as it gets larger by the second.   
  
Like a torch being lighted Kahlan realizes what it is  - and where it must come from.  
  
 _Tick, tock. Tick.._  
  
Turning her head to the side, Kahlan finally sees who keeps her quiet company.   
  
The lone big chair with armrests stands in the middle of the spacious room and its occupant sits motionless and just stares at her. It must have been a quarter of a candle-mark since the Mord‘Sith has entered the private dungeon room where Kahlan has spent the last six days or so. Or a lot more, maybe less.  
  
Kahlan could ask, if she could already speak again, but then she doesn‘t think Denna would answer. She‘s been awfully quiet since she forced her Agiel down Kahlan‘s throat.  
  
Denna has crossed her legs and her arms are stretched out on the armrests, with a look of utter serenity on her face.  
  
Considering that she is covered with blood-splatters from head to toe all over her leathers, even dried sprinkles on her face and in her platinum blonde hair, Kahlan thinks that it is quite the display of indifference, even for Denna. It is the messiest Kahlan has ever seen her look.  
  
Even with Kahlan on her knees and head buried between her legs, breathing toneless moans into the air when she comes undone faster than a Mord‘Sith needs to get out of her leathers, she still manages to look put together. Kahlan can do nothing but envy her for that. It easy to focus her sole attention on Denna, then by now, Denna is all she has left.   
  
_Think of me and only of me._  
  
It‘s Denna‘s voice she hears in her mind day and night, even if the blonde Mord‘Sith hasn‘t spoken to her in days.   
  
Kahlan wonders, if it is a sign of being broken already. Or maybe, it is enough that Denna can make her say crude things while she fucks her hard against the stone-wall of her chambers.  
  
Kahlan can‘t tell for sure, but that‘s one of the amenities of being a Mord‘Sith‘ pet.  
  
There is no need to wonder about _anything any longer_ , then Kahlan has a Mistress now to decide for her.  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

“Kahlan.“  
  
It‘s the first human word she has heard in nearly two weeks. Fourteen days. Three-hundred thirty-six long hours.   
  
It is the name her mother choose for her on the day she was born, just before she died. At times she can only wish she would not remember anymore, then with it spoken out loud come memories to the surface she can no longer ignore.   
  
Love isn‘t something to fear, Kahlan.  
  
She remembers Richard‘s voice, sounding from far away, but still, it‘s there. Kahlan wonders what he would have done, if he had known how everything turned out in the end. Would he have left Westland with her in the first place or would he have stayed?   
  
He might be still alive it he had.  
  
The day Aydindril fell, the gates to the Underworld stood wide open.  
  
It seemed to Kahlan like the Keeper himself had come to the surface, summoning innocent souls to take on their final journey.  
  
The white palace had been engulfed in red and orange flames, the air around it thick and heavy with poisonous smoke.  
  
The fire whizzed and roared like a storm, the wind had whipped hard against Kahlan‘s face, achingly hot as if the air itself was aflame.  She remembers wanting to breathe but she would only inhale a scorching breeze, burning the flesh down deep into her lungs.   
  
Cara had lain in her arms as the end came. Her for once bare hand leaving a crimson trail on Kahlan‘s face, mingling with the tears already shed. She had tried to tell her something in her last moments, but coughed up blood that had silenced her voice. A tear ran down Kahlan‘s cheek and Cara had watched it fall.   
  
She‘d held her friend close, rocking slightly to calm them both, until green eyes closed for the final time.   
  
Around them the world faded into chaos, the wind kicked up glowing ashes, potent enough to set the dry grass yards away alight, as if searching for the last spots that weren‘t burning already.  Men, woman and children were scorched with fierce heat as they tried to escape from inside, leaving them as living torches.  
  
When Darken Rahl and his personal Mord‘Sith came at the end of battle, the skies already rained ashes and the earth was slick and soaked red with the blood of thousands.   
  
Amidst the many who had been speared, ripped open by swords and blades, strangled or even burned by the flames, Lord  Rahl had stepped jovially into the middle of the grand place in front of the palace.   
  
Still Kahlan can see Richard‘s dead body being impaled through his left shoulder and held high, showing off the Seeker to those who had barely survived or just for Rahl‘s sick entertainment. Kahlan had looked around, seeing sons and daughters of the age of only six or twelve summers being slaughtered or left to die.   
  
On that day, the entire Midlands lay dying to Lord Rahl‘s feet.   
  
In the end it hadn‘t taken long for them to find her, the wound to her stomach making it impossible for her to move or fight them off.   
  
From then on, not a single day had passed on which Kahlan had not wished she had joined her loved ones who had fallen.  
  
“Kahlan.“  
  
Denna‘s voice brings her back into a world where she has nothing left to fight for.   
  
Deep inside she hopes it‘s just a matter of time until Denna finally lets her go.  
  
The single tear running down her cheek feels hot against her cooled skin and when her gaze finds Denna‘s, she is certain the Mord‘Sith knows exactly what she has been thinking about.  
  
She had not seen her during battle, but she knows Denna must have been there, at least at the very end.  
  
The chair stands where it always does and Denna is back just looking at her, as if waiting for her to admit to her darkest secrets. Sometimes she thinks Denna is already bored with her, when she leaves the dungeon and doesn‘t return for days. Other Mord‘Sith tend to her then and bring her food and water, let her sleep on the freezing wet ground for an hour or two.   
  
The skin on her wrists is no longer existent; at first Kahlan refused to give them the satisfaction of screaming in pain. But that last defiant streak already lays beyond her means. When the shackles are closed each day anew around her raw wrists and they pull her off the ground, the tones leaving her throat sound foreign to her own ears. Reminding more of a wounded animal than a human being.  
  
Denna‘s leathers are clean once more and she looks nothing like the woman with the haunted eyes she has seen last. The blood near the door has dried eventually, leaving a dark stain on gray stones as a reminder what Denna truly is capable of.  
  
Kahlan watches her as she stands from the chair, deliberately closing the distance between them.   
  
Her body starts shaking, the chains ring with a faint noise.   
  
Denna‘s hand reaches out to touch her stomach, trailing a finger over the scar she wears since the battle. The skin is still uncomfortable sensitive to the touch and the contact releases a tingle downward to the tip of her toes. The quiet whimper at the pleasant sensation leaves her dry mouth unbidden.   
  
“Oh, you have missed me.“   
  
It‘s not a question, it never is.   
  
Denna‘s finger then trails down further to the apex of her thighs. The thin cotton of her underthings is doing nothing to protect her from the intimate touch and the sensation ripping through her. The moan feels wrong, but once again Kahlan can‘t do anything but let it escape into the air and it makes Denna smile,   
  
“I have missed you too Kahlan.“


	3. Chapter 3

Finally she has returned home.  
  
Kahlan lays back on the soft blanket, probing her head up in one hand. Fingers graze through the lush green grass and the sun reflects in the windows of the Confessor‘s Palace in the distance, letting it almost glow in a golden hue.  
  
A few yards away Richard is laughing as he playfully swings the Sword of Truth in Cara‘s direction, who dodges it easily with one of her Agiel‘s. Richard laughs even more and stumbles backwards, Cara close on his heels with furrowed brows. “You‘re not even trying!“ Cara accuses and Kahlan smiles at how truly offended she sounds at his refusal for a real sparring.  
  
The sun stands high in the blue cloudless sky, warming her skin. The sight of the two people she loves most, fills her heart with joy and fuzzy contentment. Kahlan‘s eyes flutter closed for a moment and with Richard‘s laughter still ringing in her ears, she dozes off.   
  
“Kahlan! Wake up!“   
  
It is Cara‘s voice that she hears, but it is the urgent and desperate tone that brings her back to consciousness rather quickly. But when she opens her eyes, Kahlan knows she still dreaming - but this time it's a nightmare.  
  
No longer can she see the walls of the white palace or the lush green fields that stretch out in front of the place she had called home. The warmth of the sun is gone and she can‘t hear Richard‘s laughter anymore either. The familiar dungeon is only sparely lit as it always is and her arms ache the same as they do every day since Denna chained her up for the first time.  
  
The only difference today is that the questioning eyes staring back at her are green like emeralds and not blue like the winter sky.  
  
Her skin begins to prickle and she gets goose bumps on her arms, and Kahlan realizes, she finally must have gone mad.   
  
“Come on Kahlan, we need to get out of here.“   
  
It is a hallucination - she knows for certain it is. And shouldn't it be a good thing that she still knows, is it not? Her mind is just finally giving her what she has wished for in every waking second since the world around her started to fall apart. Kahlan shakes her head violently and thinks about Cara‘s last moments, the cooling temperature of her blood on Kahlan‘s fingers and the agonizing second as the light left her friend‘s eyes forever.   
  
A tear runs down her cheek at the very memory - and there are not enough tears to make the stabbing pain in her chest to ever go away. Forcing her eyes open once more, Kahlan is resolute not to fall for the trick her own mind tries so desperately to play on her, it is just one thing more that has turned against her. But when she blinks against the welling tears, the vision of Cara in ripped clothes and bloodied skin still stands there right before her.  
  
“No,“ and it‘s more of a desperate groan and spoken to herself than anyone else, then Kahlan has accepted a long time ago that she truly is alone now. There is no one else left and when she closes her eyes just long enough, Cara will be gone when Kahlan decides to face reality once again. It must be her mind trying to cope with all what has been done to her and it is calming her nerves to analyze the situation rationally.   
  
“Kahlan!“ Bony fingers grasp her waist, shaking her slightly. “Don‘t do this to me, come on.“   
  
Kahlan has longed to gaze into these eyes or hear that voice only once again for as long as she can remember, but now that she does, it hurts her more than it brings any comfort. She knows that the second she gives into this daydream she is lost forever in a hallucination of sorrow and despair. It‘s her weakest moment and Kahlan fears the dangerous spark of hope will enlighten a fire she won‘t be able to extinguish.  
  
“You are not real. You are dead. You died in my arms.“ The words fall from her lips in a whispered mantra and Kahlan keeps her eyes closed, then she can still hear the imagination of her dead friend take ragged breaths. She wants it so desperately to be over.  
  
The door creaks and opens swiftly, familiar footsteps are heard behind her and Kahlan releases a sigh of relief. The hands on her hips are still there, but freeze against her bare skin.  
  
The eyes she sees are back to icy blue and it feels like everything shifts into the right place again. To her surprise, Denna doesn‘t acknowledges Cara‘s presence. On one hand it causes a feeling of pure relief, on the other a great sense of unease.  
  
“I can see her.“ Kahlan croaks, her gaze shifting between Denna and Cara who seems suddenly unable to move or breathe. “Did you or one of the wizards do this?“  
  
And there as the question enters her mind a flicker of hope of a different kind spreads through her, that she is possibly not losing it entirely after all. Maybe it is just another form of torment, another scheme from a different angle Denna wanted to try.  
  
“Whom do you see, Kahlan?“ Denna asks, entertaining her madness in a cooing sweet voice.  
  
“Cara,“ Kahlan breathes, agonizing the moment when Denna will either laugh out loud or even worse, confirm her greatest fear. “She stands right next to you.“  
  
“Oh does she now?“ Denna wonders, sculptured brows rising in controlled surprise and evaluation.  
  
“Kahlan look at me, fight them - fight her.“ Cara‘s voice is desperate now and she is shaking, fingers on her hip clutch painfully into her bruised skin. “You and I can get out of here.. you just need to..  believe in me. Deep inside your heart - you know the truth.“ Kahlan looks over at Denna for the slightest reaction, but the Mord‘Sith just stares back at her and doesn‘t seem to have heard a single word.  
  
Panic rises inside of her like a storm, constricting her chest that every breath hurts so badly that she thinks she is going to suffocate at any given moment. She can‘t live like this, it hurts just too much. Cara is long gone, teared off her hands, as well as everything else that ever mattered in her life. She is in a position where she can‘t afford the blazing embers of hope any longer, then she‘s been scorched by fanatic illusions far to often - and each time paid for it dearly with a sliver of her sanity. Tears spill over in a constant flow as her eyes fix on Denna and she truly can‘t believe that the words tumble from her lips, but she can‘t take it anymore. She just can‘t. “Make her go away.“  
  
One moment there is a flicker of silver and the next Cara gasps loudly then chokes. Blood spills over her cracked lips almost instantly and her haunted eyes lock with Kahlan‘s. The thin blade protruding from her chest is bloodied and with a swift move of her hand Denna pulls it back out of her flesh. The grip on Kahlan‘s hip loosens and then it is gone as Cara sinks to her knees. “It‘s alright,“ she forces out, the sound of fluid in her lungs makes it hard to understand, but she smiles faintly up at Kahlan while fingers now press against the heavily bleeding wound on her chest.   
  
It takes just moment. And Kahlan watches as her friend dies for a second time. She tells herself that it is not real, but the feeling of loss and despair are just as devastating as the first time.  
  
The sound of creaking leather brings Kahlan‘s attention back to Denna who still stands with the dagger in her hand. Now that she can see it clearly, as the crimson fluid still drips from the point of the blade, she recognizes it as one of her own. She looks up to Denna as the Mord‘Sith lets it fall unceremoniously to the floor. The maniacal glee she finds in Denna‘s eyes makes her suddenly nauseous as her mind begins to wonder how Denna was able to stab a figment of Kahlan‘s imagination with her own dagger.  
  
“Now she won‘t bother you again.“ Denna says and turns on her heels, leaving Kahlan alone in the dungeon with Cara‘s dead body lying at her feet.  
  
As realization settles, an anguished scream breaks into sobs, and her heart breaks once again.


	4. Chapter 4

It has been a little over a two days since Denna toyed with the very end of a tether which holds Kahlan to her sanity; all the while the memories of a once perfect world still cut into her like edgy shards of a broken mirror.

Kahlan waits for the tether to snap - to escape into her own mind - but mercilessly it doesn't. 

She will not think about Cara and what Denna did to her. She doesn't think about how she herself failed to do anything at all to avoid it. 

Kahlan reasons that hope is a principle she once treasured, but is not able to afford anymore. She couldn't possibly believe that Cara had been alive all this time and not a figment of her imagination; trust that she wasn't truly alone and there could come a time when this was all over and not thought of often, as some things can never be forgotten.

Kahlan clings to gratefulness instead. No matter what she endured during the time in the temple Kahlan must be grateful. Beneath the painful clenching of her heart - whenever she thinks about family, friends, lovers she has lost - she can't find it in her heart to feel not relived for what she has been spared. It could be worse, she thinks. After all, it could be so much worse.

Kahlan believes that even Denna must know she has her limits. Even when the Mord’Sith proves to enjoy pushing these boundaries more often than not. It is inevitable and will continue until she finally passes away and Kahlan has come to accept that. 

And the end is near, for Kahlan can not - will not - entertain thoughts a future that contains of many years to come.

Darken Rahl or Denna will be bored with her screams eventually. There is nothing left to give, no more secrets to tell. And then, she can return home at last.

Somewhere, hidden away in one of the dark corners of her dungeon, water drips from a crack in the ceiling to the stone floor. The splashing sound every few seconds when the drop of water hits the ground is the only constant Kahlan has left in life. It is the one she concentrates on, when a group of four Mord’Sith enter. It must have been more or less then six hours, since Denna had previously left her.

Kahlan knows why they are here now. They have come to retrieve the body. 

They have come to take Cara away.

Kahlan trains her eyes on the wall and counts. 

One-hundred-thirty-eight drops of water later the room is hers and hers alone once more.

Unshed tears brim in her eyes and Kahlan keeps on counting.

—

"You reek terribly of fear Kahlan." 

She watches as Denna scrunches up her nose as she steps closer to where she is shackled to the ceiling in the middle of the room, twisting her face in disgust.

"I think I'll have Constance take care of that." Denna nods faintly, moving at a leisurely pace around her, before concluding a full circle and comes to a stop in front of her once more, while Kahlan's blood runs cold in her veins and she goes suddenly very still.. "She did so well with you last time, didn't she? And you.. will need to be prepared." 

"How would you like that, Kahlan?" Denna asks lightly, her tone calm and even, as if she wasn't the madwoman that she is. Her lips, painted in a deep red, curl into the beginning of a smirk, but not quite, as if something holds back the malicious glee Kahlan has so often witnessed lightening up the blonde's face.

"You remember Constance, don't you?" Denna whispers in a sickening cooing tune, but it seems like she knows perfectly well that Kahlan hasn't forgotten the dark haired sister of hers.

Oh yes she does. She remembers Constance.

The shiver running down her spine as the memories come vividly back to the surface causes the chains above to rattle, the motion is completely involuntary but Kahlan can't command her body anymore to still the movement.

She remembers each bucket of ice-cold water as well as the hard brush with short sturdy bristles, scrubbing and clawing at her even long after the first layer of skin was gone, leaving her flesh raw and aching. Wounds and cuts barely healed ripped open over and over. She remembers screaming until her throat was sore and no sound would come. Constance never stopped, never wavered in her anger filled cruelty. Afterward, Kahlan had believed it to be the merciful end of her suffering, as a high fever that followed Constance attentions, took her into a delirious heaven of dreams without fear and colorful hallucinations for many days to come.

"No, please. Not Constance." She hears the words tumble from her mouth before she's even made a conscious choice of voicing them, "I do whatever you want me to - but please, not her." Kahlan shakes her head so violently, that her vision starts to blur and when her voice sounds like she's begging Denna to change her mind, she doesn't find the strength to care. There is only so much one can take and Constance’s particular care is definitely not one of those things anymore.

In conclusion, Kahlan realizes that she'd prefer Denna any other day to any of her sisters and it gives her pause. In moments like this, Kahlan wonders if these are the telltale signs towards complete devotion that bode her downfall, the end of her existence - the cessation of her kind. 

Denna regards her closely, a brow rising in sudden curiosity at her emotional outburst. Kahlan can see, the blonde is intrigued about her reaction, but it doesn't mean that Denna even considers to grant her wish.

Maybe she'll just watch instead, Kahlan thinks, holding Denna's clear blue eyes with her own. It wouldn't be that far of a stretch.

In the distance Kahlan hears the clacking of heels against stone tiles. Getting louder, coming closer.

She knows she has not much time left. And from the challenge in her eyes, Denna seems to agree.

Fear is still a very real emotion and Kahlan - even when there was once a time when she never thought this a possibility, an occasion where she - the Mother Confessor - would beg a Mord'Sith, especially Denna - for lenience, knows deep inside that she has come to a place where she doesn't care about appearances any longer and really, for whom should she keep on fighting? For her honor or her memory? No one who's opinion ever mattered is among the living anymore, not one left to judge, so it is beyond reason to suffer more than necessary just for defiance’ sake or a fight that had been lost before it even began.

Lifting her chin up from where it rests against her breastbone, she meets Denna's gaze head on. She studies Denna's steel blue eyes, that are quite similar in shade to her own, but also cold and cruel and nothing like hers, yet with fascinating depth that Kahlan can admit to without shame. Maybe this is the point of surrender she had loathed to acknowledge, but then Kahlan sees no point in denying herself at least the possibility of a moment of rest and quiet or just not more suffering. The words when they eventually come, don't come easy, but she never expected they would. Her voice is raw but sincere, laced with an intimacy that Kahlan never thought Denna would ever be privy to hear, "Please Mistress Denna, please don't let her take me away from you."

Denna studies her with an unreadable expression on her face for a long while, as she stands very still in front of Kahlan, hands clutched firmly behind her back. It is the first time Kahlan has ever said her name, and Denna must realize the significance of it, when the surprised widening of her eyes is any indication, although it's gone as quickly as it appeared.

Outside, the steps in the hallway echo off of the walls and Kahlan’s heart adapts to thrum anxiously in their unsteady rhythm.

The whisper of Denna’s breath dances across her face and were she to lean forwards just a fraction, her lips would touch to Kahlan’s.

The door creaks as it opens forcefully behind them. Mistress Constance takes two measured steps inside the dungeon and Kahlan’s skin begins to prickle.

"Mistress Denna." Her tone is harsh, unfriendly and tinted so blatantly with disapproval, that it makes Kahlan believe the other Mord'Sith didn't expect to find Denna still in here. But Kahlan doesn't dare to break Denna’s penetrating gaze, that hasn't wavered even with the arrival of her sister. 

The silence in the room is deafening and when Denna’s tongue pokes out to wet her lips, it grazes Kahlan’s bottom lip so softly that she stops breathing.

"Constance." Denna acknowledges her at last and Kahlan can practically taste Denna's annoyance. The lack of appellation is a dig that's not lost on Kahlan and she prays to the creator that Constance won't get the chance to take it out on her later. She doesn't have a clue about the hierarchy in the Mord’Sith temple, the only thing she does know is that Denna takes shit from no one. 

"Your services are not longer required. Leave us."

Kahlan waits for the other Mord'Sith to protest or unsheathe her Agiel, but then out of the corner of her eyes she makes out how Constance steps back and retreats out through the door with nothing but a low growl. Her footsteps sound for a while longer and only when they fall silent, Kahlan exhales her relief in a shaky, hurried breath against Denna’s still wet lips.

"Lord Rahl will come and fetch you the day after tomorrow."

Just like that, sweet relief turns bitter in her mouth.


End file.
